


A Social Experiment

by LadyontheGrey



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4350089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyontheGrey/pseuds/LadyontheGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs to learn to succeed at social interactions and he has the perfect test subject in mind. This is one of my favorite works I've done, that I'm bringing over to Ao3 from Fanfiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Yikes," she gasped as she pulled the sheet back from the figure on the gurney. She flinch at her hard words, "Sorry, not that you're not pretty. I'm sure you'll still be a looker when they lay you out in the casket." Molly never understood why she felt the need to be kind to the dead that lay on her table. Maybe because she knew that she wanted whoever did her autopsy when her time came to be as kind to her. "Let's see. It looks like it was a pretty nasty fall. Punctured lung, bruised spleen, and a lot of internal bleeding. You didn't suffer long though. That's good. I want to go like that. Not off a bridge mind you, no offense, but quickly. I don't want it to hurt."

"I'm quite sure it always hurts Molly. Its death it's supposed to hurt," a deep voice said from the door. Molly jumped at the familiar voice and her scalpel dragged a jagged cut down the unmarred skin. She sighed heavily at the damage; she had wanted to leave what she could intact. "You should be careful with that, its' not a toy."

"Yes, I realize," she rolled her eyes, but he couldn't see that, she still hadn't turned to face the intruder.

"That tone Molly, I don't believe I've ever heard you use that tone with me. You must be quite irritated. What happened?" he asked.

She took a deep breathe and rolled her shoulders. She did not want to have this conversation with Sherlock Holmes. The man she loved, the man she could never have. He had proven that numerous times and she was finally ready to let him go. Too bad it seemed that no one else in the world wanted her either. Todd, the man who lived in the flat next door to her, had seemed nice enough and willing to give her a chance, until he stood her up last night without a phone call or note. Now Molly felt the need to avoid him in the hallways, in the elevator, and in the little coffee shop just down the street from their shared apartment building. How was she going to manage that? And another question, why did she feel the need to avoid him? Maybe he had a good reason for standing her up without so much of a whisper. Maybe his mother fell ill, or he was in an accident.

"Molly? It is quite obvious that something happened and since John specifically told me that I need to be nicer to people, I am asking what is wrong. Either tell me or avoid the subject and ask me why I am here, so we can both get on with our business," Sherlock stated impatiently still standing near the door.

"All right Sherlock what do you need?" Molly asked pulling the sheet back over the woman's body and finally turning to face him.

He looked her over carefully and the scrutiny made her twitch uncomfortably. He hardly ever deduced her, she wasn't interesting enough, and when he did it never turned out well when he did. She remembered the Hell that Christmas had been and closed her eyes, ready for his caustic remarks concerning her current failures as a human being. "You look tired. Perhaps I should come back another time?"

Her eyes popped open in surprise. She was certain he at least knew the general outline of what made her so tired because he was Sherlock and of course he knew, but instead of using it and tearing her apart he just let it go. She wasn't sure if she liked it. True, when he deduced her he was callous, rude, and terribly mean, but he was paying attention to her. He was looking at her and even if what he said was terrible, it meant he noticed her.

"No, its fine. You're right though I don't want to talk about it, but what is it you needed," she asked wiping her palms along her skirt to smooth it out. The gesture soothed her, put her back in control.

"Fair enough," he said in his normal, clipped manner and the familiarity of it did even more to sooth and comfort her. "I was looking to get my hands on a few samples: specifically a couple of fingers, a kidney, and possibly some veins, but only if you have an unattached bundle. I don't particularly need those, I'm just curious about something."

He was still tiptoeing, she could feel it. His tone was gentle and he was making allowances for the bundle of veins. What did he know that she didn't? 'Everything,' he brain replied and she fought the urge to roll her eyes and answer that little voice. "I have them. Give me a minute and I'll have a bag ready," she said as she crossed to the refrigerated storage unit where donated body parts were kept. "There's quite a selection of fingers over here. If you want you can take your pick. Only one kidney though. I hope it's what you need. There's some marginal damage, he was getting on in years when his heart gave out. Poor Mr. Talkey."

"Molly, I believe I've told you this before: You talk too much," Sherlock's voice came from over her shoulder. Molly jumped slightly and the jump sent her back a few centimeters, but it was enough to cause her to brush her full body to his. She closed her eyes at the sensation and gulped a large amount of air into her lungs. "However, it was kind of you to offer. I would love to choose. In fact I was hoping there would be several options. I am partial to the ones on that young woman, but I don't believe she's a donor and I highly doubt you would make the exception," he stated directly avoiding her obvious arousal and her clumsy nature.

"No, I don't think so," she said following his lead and playing the tension off. Not that he was tensioned. She doubted that normal circumstances could ever intrigue him in any way, especially romantically.

"Pity, she has lovely hands. No matter, I'll take these and the kidney is fine. Did you manage to find the veins?" he asked looking over to where she stood by another refrigerated drawer.  
"Yes, here, they're a little old. They came in about a week ago. He seemed like a nice man. He took care of himself, didn't drink and exercised regularly. His was a sad autopsy, an undetected aneurysm. It was quite a shock to his family," she sighed over the remains.

"Lovely, those will work beautifully," Sherlock was once again standing mere centimeters behind her and again Molly's body betrayed her. Goosebumps erupted over her flesh and a deep blush came over her cheeks.

"Good, I'm glad I could help," she said breathily. 'Damn him, damn him straight to Hell. What is going on? He has to notice the effect he has. He's just being rude.'

"Oh, you've helped me a great deal today Molly Hooper," Sherlock whispered into her ear. He still hadn't moved and she could feel how close his body was to hers. Close nearly touching, but not quite. It was maddening and his whisper sent a full body shiver through her.

He left and she continued to stand there minutes after he had left trying to puzzle out what had just happened. It seemed he'd been purposefully attempting to get a rise out of her, but why?  
"Back already? I thought you were going to conduct some experiments at Bart's today," John commented as Sherlock walked through the door.

"I was, but I ran into more interesting prospects," Sherlock said unwinding his scarf.

"Oh and what was that?" John asked with mild interest. He was sitting in a chair in the two's shared living room reading the evening post.

"Nothing of consequence. I decided to bring some samples home instead," Sherlock said crossing to the kitchen.

"That's great. Just what we needed more body parts," John muttered sarcastically as he turned the page of his paper.

"Don't worry John it will only be for a little while. There's a new case coming. I just have to make a few adjustments to my methods," he said.

"For the better?" John asked.

"Possibly, I'll require tea John. I'll be in my room," Sherlock said pulling the bundle of veins from the bag and stashing the rest of his goods in the refrigerator.

"You were just in there! I swear, you can't do anything for yourself can you?" John called behind his flatmate.

"What's all the excitement?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she pushed her way into the room.

"Nothing Mrs. Hudson, just Sherlock being himself," John said shrugging the strange behavior off.

Later that evening as Molly ate she continued to think about her encounter with Sherlock. She tried watching the telly, reading a book, balancing her checkbook, and she even called a friend and talk for a little while, but nothing she did could get that man off her mind.

"I thought you said he didn't think like that," her friend said.

"I don't know Vanessa. I don't think he does, but there was that case with the woman who he identified by… not her face," Molly said haltingly.

"Not her face? Sounds weird. So, let me get this straight, the moment you decide to give him up and pursue other men is the moment he decides to flirt with you?"Vanessa asked.

"I don't think he was flirting Nessa, he was just acting strangely. It's just too much though you know, first there was that Christmas party, then that woman, and then when I finally decide to move on and take a chance on someone else, that someone else stood me up," Molly paused here and wiped a couple of tears that came with her frustration and confusion. "I mean, I was terrified to come to the apartment today. I was nervous about running into Todd, which is stupid of me. I really should just talk to him."

"Oh Molly, it'll be okay. Maybe Todd's standing you up was a sign though, like maybe you shouldn't give up on Sherlock. I mean it can't be a coincidence that the moment you decide to date someone else Sherlock finally realizes that you might be the one and that your date blows you off on the very night before," Vanessa said logically.

"Nessa you know I don't believe in fate and destiny and that other stuff, but it does sound a little too organized to be random," Molly paused thinking about the situation. She had been burned by Sherlock too many times, but all of those times had seemed to be accidents. He had seen the pieces of the puzzle, but had put them together in the wrong way. Honestly, how did he not know that the present was for him that Christmas, for a genius he really was clueless. "Maybe you're right," Molly said slowly thinking about the words and letting them sink into her heart. "I will give him another shot. I mean, who am I to fight fate?"  
Molly stood in the morgue at Bart's feeling fidgety and nervous. She was wearing nicer clothes than usual; not nice enough to draw attention to her, but nice enough that she felt a little self-conscious about it. 'You don't even know if he'll come in today,' she chastised herself. 'Besides last time you tried to impress him, you just made a giant fool of yourself.'

"That was sloppy," Sherlock's voice rang through to quiet of the morgue.

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it," she sighed looking back at her last incision. It was jagged compared to the cuts she had made when she wasn't thinking about him.

"What has you so distracted?" he asked coming to stand beside her.

"Hm, nothing really. I guess I'm just tired," she said wiping the blade and going to the sink to wash her hands.

"Now, Molly, we both know that I know that you aren't just tired," he looked at her intensely waiting for her to say something.

"You're right. I'm not just tired. I was thinking about something. I let myself get distracted and my work suffered. But we can't all be like you, some of us have things we can't stop thinking about; things that can't be locked in a box in our brains or forgotten," she huffed out.

He continued to stare at her for a moment. He wore an odd expression and it made Molly highly uncomfortable. "You know Molly; there are things I think about too. I just don't let on that I do. I have a remarkable gift for working well even when distracted," he said raising an eyebrow and continuing to gaze at her with his icy blue eyes.

She tried to maintain eye contact, but couldn't. Meek, mousy Molly, incapable of confronting the man before her, terrified of running into the man in the apartment building who had turned her down. She wanted to change, but changing a habit was nearly impossible. As her eyes found the ground and a blush colored her cheeks Molly decided to confront Todd. She couldn't face Sherlock, but who could really? She couldn't face Sherlock, but she was going to make Todd tell her why he had skipped out on her that night.

"What are you thinking Molly? You have been staring at the ground now for nearly a minute. We do have work to do don't we," he said gesturing to the corpse she'd by working with.

"Yes, of course. Sorry Sherlock I was distracted again," her palms ran down the front of her trousers and she put herself back into business mode. "So, what brings the great Sherlock Holmes to the catacombs of Bart's two days in a row?"

"Nothing particular. I wanted to look through some of the donations. I only have two experiments running at the moment and I was hoping that the donations would inspire a third or fourth. You see Molly, there are no cases right now and I am terribly bored," he explained.

"John kicked you out of the house didn't he," Molly said leading him to the tall stainless steel cabinet where the morgue stored any donated body parts. With Sherlock's increasing popularity, the number of donors was also rising since the public heard that the infamous Sherlock Holmes might use them for some purpose or another.

"He did. He said that if I couldn't behave and be quiet then I would have to find somewhere else to be," Sherlock said craning over Molly's shoulder to get a better look at the organized body parts as the heavy door swung open. "Oh, none of those are interesting enough."

"You've barely looked at them," Molly squeaked in protest. Somehow she felt that his disapproval of the donations was somehow her fault. That she had failed at the one thing she was capable of doing for him.

"Molly, I don't need more than a glace to tell me that none of those body parts are any more interesting than the ones you posses," he said raking a glace down her. Molly blushed even though she knew he was referring to internal organs. It was going to be a long day if Sherlock stayed around. "Though I do believe there may one day be cause to study your parts one day Molly."

"You're acting strangely Sherlock, even for yourself. What happened?" Molly asked feeling hot and very bothered. He wasn't being sexual and that was even creepier to her. 'One day he will perform experiments on my remains. That's what he's saying,' she thought firmly at herself. Even so she was still slightly fascinated. There was no hope left for her.

"Am I?" Sherlock asked shutting the drawer to a full body yet to be cut open. "Are there any full bodies donated I should like to test some post mortem effects today."

The day passed along agreeably. Molly and Sherlock worked quietly together' sometimes sharing data, other times helping the other with small, non correlating puzzle pieces. By the end of the day they were laughing at some morbid joke or another.

"You know Molly, today was rather enjoyable. You have quite the wit once you finally relax. I was always under the impression that you were terribly boring," Sherlock said. He was facing away from her, packing his corpse back on its gurney.

For a moment Molly just stared at the back of him. Was he complimenting her? It didn't sound like a complement, but it also did, "I'm going to tack that as a compliment whether you meant it as one or not, so thank you. You're not nearly as hard to talk to as I'd always imagined. You're brilliant, but not too hard to talk to."

"You're compliments are rather held back, you see I am quite used to John's remarks which favor me highly. However, the remarks are hardly ever about my personality, so thank you as well," Sherlock said now leaning against the empty stainless steel table next to her.

"I'm sure John's just fine with your personality, if he wasn't I think he would have moved out a while ago," Molly said. She was beginning to falter. Talking to him while they were working at separate tables was one thing. Talking to him and standing next to him was something completely different.

"Molly, let's not make small talk. You'll only succeed in boring me again," Sherlock said and turned to face her. Molly parted her mouth to apologize, but he stopped her. It took her brain a second to catch up with her body. Her mouth was already moving with Sherlock's before her brain realized that he had tilted his head toward hers. The kiss was brief, but interesting. Molly decided he was a rather good kisser and she wondered again at the woman he had identified on her gurney. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to spoil the moment." He looked a little flustered and Molly decided to keep her mouth shut. Nothing she could say would be right.

Sherlock began to pace around the room, one hand behind his back and the other covering his mouth. Molly wondered if he regretted the decision to kiss her now, but instead of asking she watched. Sherlock began, "Now Molly, that was highly unlikely and I am still unsure of what possessed me to do it. You realize that it is out of my character."

"Yes Sherlock," Molly said shortly. His advice had always been to talk less, so she was going to let him puzzle this one out for himself.

"And that the likelihood of it happening again is very slim," he said making another pass in front of her.

"Yes Sherlock," Molly said again. She wanted to know where his train of thought was carrying him, so she replied as shortly as possibly.

"Even though that is the case, I don't doubt that you are still infatuated with me, possibly even more than before since this physical incursion," he said.

"Yes," she said as she watched him pace. He reminded her of a leopard she had seen at the zoo once that had paced close to the enclosure fence.

"Yes! Can't you say anything else? No, sorry, I'm just… a little out of my element here," he said running the hand that had been near his mouth through his hair.

"Of course I can," Molly said as she melted at his loss of temper. Seeing him fumble was rather endearing. "Nothing has to come of it Sherlock. I'll forgive you. I'm sure you didn't mean it."

"Didn't mean it?" he stopped his pacing in front of her, turned to face her, and laid both of his hands on her shoulders. "I'm afraid I did mean it Molly. I meant it very much, but I'm not sure for how long I can mean it. Am finally curious about the aspect of life I've avoided or do I care for you. Either way I don't want to hurt you, but at the same time I want to take that chance."

"Sherlock, are you asking me on a date?" Molly whispered. It was too much. Vanessa was right. He wanted to take a chance on her.

"Molly, I think I am. Would you please honor me with your presence tomorrow night," he asked.

"Yeah, definitely," Molly said.

"Then until tomorrow," Sherlock said as he turned and walked out the door.

"I have a date with Sherlock, a date with Sherlock Holmes tomorrow. Oh my God what am I going to wear?"  
Molly rummaged through her closet rejecting and evaluating her entire wardrobe. "No I wear this to work," she groaned.

"What about this? This is cute," Vanessa said holding up a little black dress with silver embellishment at the top.

Molly looked over and shuddered, "No, definitely not. I was going to wear that on my date with Todd and he stood me up. I also wore it to a Christmas party once. That dress is nothing but bad luck."

"Can I have it then? If its bad luck for you, maybe it's good luck for me?" Vanessa said holding the garment to her body.

"Go for it, but don't say I didn't warn you," Molly said as she dug further into her small closet. Some of the clothes hadn't seen the light for years and probably for good reason. So far she had a pile of "absolutely nots" and a pile of "probably nots."

"What is that?" Vanessa asked as Molly pulled out a hideous lime green pants suit that still had the tags attached.

"She meant well," Molly sighed referring to the pantsuit that had been a gift from one of her aunts. "I don't think there's anything else in here worth pulling out."

She turned to the "probably nots" pile and began sorting it into more piles. As she sorted Vanessa walked back to the closet and rummaged through the few remaining articles hanging there. "What about this?"

Molly turned and saw her friend was holding up a cherry red evening dress. Molly vaguely remembered a Halloween party where she had been Jessica Rabbit wearing an awful red wig. "That's Samantha's. It was her idea to go as vixens that year. I guess I never gave her dress back."

"You still can, but I don't think it fits her anymore. She's had two kids since then, I think it would be a little small," Vanessa said.

"Even so, I don't think I'll wear it. It's too red, too bold. He'll think I'm trying to hard," she said dismissively.

"Try it on," Vanessa demanded. "I'll do your make-up though. I think that's where you messed up. We need to go a little darker in shade and a little lighter in amount."

"Fine," Molly sighed and put on the dress. It fit better than it had that Halloween. She'd gained a little curve to fill it out and the color looked nice with her pale skin and dark hair.

"Oh good, I was actually a little worried that it would look awful," Vanessa smiled. Molly scowled at her. "Sorry, it's just really red." Vanessa did her make-up and curled her hair. When Molly tried to pull part of it back Vanessa stopped her, "No, that's the you he always sees. Let him see a sexier version of you."

It was nearly seven when they were finally done with all of their preparations. Vanessa went home and Molly fidgeted in her borrowed dress and constantly put her hand to her loose hair. She fought the urge to touch it and move it away from her face. 'I hope he gets here soon.'

"John," Sherlock yelled from his bedroom. "John, I need your help with something." Sherlock waited a few seconds for his roommate's response. "John, I need your advice." He waited again. "John, I'm going on a date and I need to talk to you about it."

"What did you say?" John was at his door now, interested in Sherlock's shenanigans. "I thought I heard you say you were going on a date."

"You did John. I am going on a date and I can't decide if I should wear a tie or not. I'm taking her to a rather nice restaurant, but I don't like how restrictive ties are," Sherlock said.

"On a date? A real date or something, I don't know," John said.

"No I don't think I'll wear a tie. Are you implying, John, that I am just leading this poor girl on a wild goose chase? I can be romantic you know. Whether you believe it or not I am still human," Sherlock said pulling a charcoal grey suit from his neatly organized closet. "No I will wear the tie, this blue one sets of the suit rather well."

"You're calling yourself human now? I thought you didn't have room in that head of yours for frivolous things like romance," John questioned.

"It's something I have not had a chance to explore, so I don't know if it is worth making the room for. I don't just assume that it is too frivolous, that would be dangerous. It could turn out to be very important to solving cases," Sherlock said. He fumbled with his tie as he talked and finally let out a frustrated sigh. "No I won't wear the tie then."

"Stop it. Come here. You don't wear ties because you can't tie them?" John asked as he tied the knot and loosened it to wear Sherlock's first button was done up. Normally John would disapprove of the sloppy style, but slap-dash suited his friend.

"Thank you John. And I'm sure I could learn to tie a tie. I probably knew once, it isn't a terribly useful piece of clothing though," Sherlock said as he pulled on his suit jacket. "What do you think?"  
"You look nice," John said. He was still kind of baffled at the situation.

"Good, I'm off to pick up Molly then," Sherlock said picking up and his scarf and wool coat.

"Wait? Did you say Molly? Molly Hooper? Our pathologist?" John asked incredulously.

"Yes, that Molly," Sherlock said. "Our pathologist? What an odd statement."

"You can't take Molly out. You'll break her heart. She won't be able to function correctly again," John said.

"I want to take Molly out and she knows the risk she runs. We did talk about it John. I didn't just ambush her and make her say yes," Sherlock explained.

"So she knows it might not work out and she remembers who you are and what you are capable of?" John asked.

"Yes, and I think most people understand that not every relationship works out. Actually most don't; look at yourself John," Sherlock said. He had wanted to stun John and he succeeded. "Goodbye John and wish me luck."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I've accidentally misunderstood how chapters work on this website, so here is the rest :)

Ding dong. Molly paled and turned toward the door. "I lied. I can't do this. I'm going to pretend I have pneumonia."  
"You can't. You've come too far to give up like that. I'm going to go hide in your closet and you are going to go have the best sexiest, most romantic night of your life," Vanessa said.  
"That whole concept just sounds flawed, but okay. You go hide and I'll go open the door," Molly said taking a deep breath to steady herself.  
"Good luck then," Vanessa said as she ducked around the corner into Molly's room.  
Molly walked to the door and reached her shaking hand toward the knob. She pulled the door open. Sherlock stood in the hallway with a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand. "Come in," Molly said quietly.  
"Thank you Molly," Sherlock said. He stood there for a minute and looked her up and down before stepping in and handing her the bouquet. "I thought about roses, but those are so common place these days."  
"They're lovely," Molly said with a blush at his look before she walked to the kitchen for a vase. Sherlock trailed behind her his hands in his pockets. He had never been on a date before and was rather clueless to the proper protocol.  
"You look lovely tonight. I expected you to look nice, but you've really outdone yourself," he said a little awkwardly.  
Molly blushed profusely. Sherlock was hardly ever awkward, and Molly found the trait rather adorable in the usually over confidant man, "Thank you."  
"Do you happen to have aspirin on hand?" Sherlock asked as he watched Molly fill the vase with water from the facet.  
"I don't think so. I have Tylenol if you have a headache," she said distractedly as she tried to find a place for the flowers.  
"Oh the aspirin's not for me, it's to help preserve the flowers," he told her.  
"Does that actually work? I have heard that before," she said.  
"It does, rather well. What about apple cider vinegar or vodka? Paired with a teaspoon of sugar either would work well," Sherlock said.  
"I do have the vinegar. Give me a minute," Molly said and hurried back to the kitchen with her heels tapping across the floor. Sherlock gazed at her as she stretched to reach the vinegar on a high shelf and as she bent to grab the sugar from another lower shelf. The hem of her skirt pulled and teased along her thighs and Sherlock felt his face heat. He cleared his throat and looked away.  
"Here, I'll put it in with the flowers," Sherlock said taking the glass from Molly's hand. He let his fingers trail along hers for a brief moment and gauged the effect. Her breathing halted for a moment as her lips parted slightly accompanied by an increase in her pulse and a dilating of her pupils. All were signs that he was succeeding in his attempts at ensnaring Molly's attention.  
"Thanks," Molly whispered. The whispered word made Sherlock vaguely uncomfortable, but he shrugged it off and deftly poured the solution into the vase.  
"My pleasure," Sherlock said in a deeper voice than he'd intended, though it had the most pleasant effect of Molly shuddering. He was finding he was rather good at this date thing.  
"So, where are we going tonight?" Molly asked after a slightly tense moment.  
"I figured dinner would be most appropriate. We will have a chance to talk and also an excuse not to if things go poorly," Sherlock said.  
"That sounds nice," Molly said looking down at her shoes. He really did have a way of bringing a situation down. Here she was ready to enjoy herself and he was bringing up how things might go terribly.  
"Oh, this place is very nice," Molly said looking at the brick façade of the restaurant.  
"Yes, I have been able to help the owner out a couple of times, so it wasn't too hard to get a reservation," Sherlock said.  
Molly shook her head and smiled at him, typical Sherlock, picking a place where he was guaranteed to be treated nice. She let the host take her jacket and took Sherlock's arm when he offered it. She felt distinctly like a princess and she almost couldn't believe that she was really on a date with Sherlock Holmes.  
"It's not too much is it?" he asked a few minutes after they sat down. Molly was very quiet.  
"No, it's wonderful. I was just taking it all in. I never in my dreams imagined that I would ever be on a real date with you, especially in a place like this," she gestured to the gleaming ceiling and candles burning between them.  
"I thought it would be nice," Sherlock said with a slight frown.  
Molly laughed at his discomfort. He was used to being confident and full of answers. It was nice to see him at a loss for once. "Don't worry, it's exactly right."  
"Good," Sherlock said grabbing her hand across the table.  
They talked until their dinner came. He was much funnier than she thought he was capable of being. True not most people found autopsy humor that funny, but they both appreciated it. They talked about cases and he helped her solve a couple of deaths she'd been struggling with.  
"You're right. It has to be poison. I did do a tox screen, but Prolixin would need a special test to detect and the wife had access to it through her job," Molly said leaning across the table.  
Sherlock paused a moment to observe her. There were a couple of things he had never noticed before. In this moment she was completely relaxed. At the beginning of the date she was as self conscious as she always was, she kept her elbows of the table and was aware of every move. Now, however, she was raptly involved in the conversation and both elbows rested on the table and her chin was cupped in her hand as she thought about what he was telling her about her corpses.  
"Precisely," Sherlock said after a moment.  
"Would you like to walk home?" Sherlock asked after dinner. Molly lived about two blocks from the restaurant.  
"I would love too," Molly said smiling up at him. She had originally been very nervous about the date, but it had proven to be a very enjoyable evening.  
They walked hand and hand to the door of her apartment, where they paused. The awkwardness that Molly had feared would creep up throughout the night threatened her.  
"So, I had a nice time," Molly ventured.  
"Please don't ruin a perfectly good evening with small talk Molly," Sherlock said. He leaned down and kissed her very sweetly on the mouth. "I would very much like to do this again if you don't object."  
"Object?" Molly questioned. "I would love to do this again." She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him again.  
"I meant a date Molly," Sherlock said with a smile.  
"I know, but I couldn't resist," her smile was coy and caused an odd catching in Sherlock's breathing which he hastily dismissed.  
"How about next Saturday?" he asked.  
"Sounds perfect. Good night Sherlock," Molly said and unlocked her door.  
"Good night Molly. Until Saturday then," Sherlock said. He smirked to himself in the elevator. Phase one was going swimmingly.  
"So how did it go?" John asked when Sherlock walked in.  
"It went really well. We have another date on Saturday," Sherlock said unwinding his scarf.  
John raised an eyebrow and took a moment to observe his roommate, not that he would learn much. "So you had a good time during a normal social event? There were no murders or crimes or poison?"  
"Those things were talked about, but no none of that happened in the restaurant. Though I believe that we put a couple of other patrons off with our talk of cases. Molly was remarkably interesting, not something I expected," Sherlock said.  
John's look of surprise remained on his face, "You're admitting that someone other than yourself is interesting?"  
Sherlock stood there a moment and thought about John's comment, "I might be. I'm going in to bed now. Goodnight John."  
Molly walked into her apartment and let her eyes fell on the bouquet. She sighed with a smile and hanged her coat on a hook near the door. Suddenly she remembered that she had left Vanessa in her room. She walked down the hall and checked the house, but she found no signs of her friend. 'That's ok, I'll talk to her tomorrow,' she thought to herself. She got ready for bed and lay down and waited for sleep, but sleep did not come. Instead she thought about Sherlock and their date. She was ashamed of a few of her thoughts, and eventually she fell asleep and she was pretty sure her dreams were about a certain consulting detective.  
The next day at the morgue Molly was exhausted. Her sleep was plagued with dreams and bouts of wakefulness. On top of her exhaustion she was also anxious and on edge. Every time someone walked through the morgue doors she spun quickly to see who it was. She was half hoping that Sherlock would come and visit her at work, but he never did. She did hope that he was just as distracted as she was.  
Sherlock paced the living room of the flat. He was certain he had never been more bored. He had told John that he had enjoyed the date he had had with Molly the night before. It was not an untrue statement that he had found the evening informative and it was pleasant as far as social interactions went. However, he refused to admit that there was any other value to the night. Molly was an interesting experiment, nothing more. There was no reason for her to still be on his mind, so he could not figure out what was causing his distress. He paced from the front room to the kitchen and then flopped himself into the chair. He glanced at his cell phone, no calls from Lestrade and no text from Molly. Was texting proper protocol after a date? Maybe the night was not as successful as he had initially thought. Should he text her? Was a follow up necessary? It was obvious that he needed further instruction in how proper dating procedure worked. It was not like him to plunge into an experiment without proper research, but he had made the assumption that dating would be so simple that more than menial research would have been necessary. However, it was now obvious to him that he needed further instruction, but who should he call to get that information? Who would know the information he needed, but also not pry into his business.  
"Proper dating protocol? Why do you need to know about that? Do you have a fever or did you lose a bet to John?" Lestrade laughed over the phone.  
"I'm dating someone, is that so hard to believe?" Sherlock scowled at the detective's disbelief.  
"Yes, yes it is. Look Sherlock you want some advice, don't date her. You're no good for her whoever she is. Now, I have to get back to work," Lestrade said and hung up.  
Sherlock looked at the phone for a moment before deciding to call someone else. After being hung up on four more times by various acquaintances he decided to try his next to last option.  
"Sherlock? I thought I would never hear from you again," a sultry woman's voice said over the line.  
"Irene, I admit that I never intended to call you, but I'm mildly curious about the things you suggested," Sherlock replied.  
"So you're finally ready to have dinner with me. I like this proposition, though you still very callously handed me over to the authorities. I nearly died because of you," she teased.  
"I did save you from that death if you do recall," Sherlock reminded her.  
"You did, but I wouldn't have been in that situation if it wasn't for you," she quipped.  
"I know that you are incapable of understanding this, but I did you a favor. The governments of the world believe that you're dead. You don't have to protect yourself from them and you don't have to," Sherlock said.  
"I know, and I understood that when you did it, but I dug that hole the first time. Don't you think that there might be something in my compulsions and my personality that leads me to those behaviors?" Irene interrupted.  
"What? After all I did to get you out of the mess you got yourself back in it?" Sherlock asked.  
"Not yet, but I feel that it's a matter of time. It doesn't matter Sherlock, I've decided that I forgive you. I'll go to dinner with you, though I think we should really start with dinner. I'm still a little sore about our last incursion," Irene teased.  
"I don't want to go to dinner with you Miss Adler. I'm sorry if that's the impression you got. I actually need advice about dating. You see I'm about to take Molly out for a second date and I wanted to know what the proper protocol was in such a situation. Should I call her? We decided on a day and time, but should I confirm or is that too forward," Sherlock asked. For a moment the other end of the line was silent. "Miss Adler?"  
"I can't believe you Mr. Holmes," Irene said and then promptly hung up the phone.  
"Miss Adler?" Sherlock said. "I think she hung up on me."  
"That seemed rude. John, hanging up on someone who asks you for help is generally considered rude correct?" Sherlock yelled across the flat.  
"Yes, that is generally what people consider rude," John yelled back exasperated. "And I'm not going to help you either, just for the record." He continued to himself, "Personally I still don't buy that you're dating Molly because you want to."  
"What was that John? You really should try speaking clearly. People can't hear understand you when you mumble," Sherlock said.  
"Nothing Sherlock," John replied.  
"I don't know why you refuse to help me. I thought you wanted me to treat Molly well. The best way to do that is to help me," Sherlock rationally explained.  
"I…I guess you're right," John said defeated. "What do you need to know?"  
"Good, I'm glad you're seeing reason John. Here is the premise, our date went well. We set up another one for this Saturday. That's still a few days away and that is where my conundrum comes in. Should I call her and talk about our previous date and ask about our next one," Sherlock said.  
"You sound sincere. My advice would be to call on Friday to confirm and talk for a little while. You must have heard the old adage, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder.' I think in your position that would be a very intelligent move. She'll wonder about your date and she's think about your personality. She'll wonder if you really meant it and then you'll surprise her by being the exact opposite of your usual self," John offered.  
"Normally I would feel like I should be offended, but your logic seems sound this time. There are times when I wonder why I keep you around, then something like this comes up and I realize why you're useful," Sherlock said.  
"And you wonder why I don't like to help you. I'm going out for a while phone me if a case comes up," John said.  
"I will. But what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" Sherlock said as he began to pace and mutter to himself. John shook his head and walked out the door. He knew that he was in for a mess when he returned, but the sanity that came with his time away from the flat was worth it.  
"So how did it go?" Vanessa asked. She and Molly sat across from each other at coffee shop.  
"Really well, surprisingly well actually. He was focused and he brought me flowers. He even helped me solve the Stevenson case. He thought of poison being the cause of death," Molly gushed.  
"You talked about dead people on your date? Sounds dark and kind of weird, but if it works it works," Vanessa shrugged.  
"It's something we both find worthy and fascinating. I always feel bad for those who end up on my table, but they are also puzzles that I want to solve. I think Sherlock feels the same way about living people. He cares about people, but he's more interested in the puzzle they present. He needs to be reminded that people have feelings that need to be treated with caution," Molly explained.  
"He sounds like a maniac. I want to support this obsession you have with him because the sooner you get him out of your system, the sooner you can move on to healthier relationships, but I'm not going to lie it sounds like he's more work than he's worth," Vanessa said.  
Molly looked at her friend for a second. Molly was hurt by her words. She didn't want to get Sherlock out of her system. She wanted him to remain there, but she put on a brave face and smiled at Vanessa, "Well at least you're being supportive. Some of my co-workers are completely against it."  
"I can see why they would be, but I know how stubborn you can be, so I'll still be there to pick up the pieces," Vanessa smiled.  
"Yeah, I'm sure I'll appreciate that someday," Molly smiled tensely. "I have to go now. I promised that I would be in early today. I'll talk to you sometime soon though."  
Molly walked out the door and straight into John Watson.  
"Molly?" John asked holding her shoulders at arm's length to keep her from falling over.  
"John? Hi how are you?" she smiled.  
"Good, really good and yourself?" John asked a little distracted. He was worried about the girl in front of him. Did Sherlock really like her or was pushing angle? John just couldn't figure this one out.  
"Oh, actually I'm wonderful. I don't know if he told you, I mean why would he? You know never mind," Molly stammered. She wanted to tell John about her date with Sherlock and she wanted to know if Sherlock had told his roommate about it, but she didn't want to seem too desperate.  
"Ah, so the date went well? Sherlock said it went well, but I thought he might have been mistaken. He tends to misidentify social situations. Sometimes when he says something went well other parties don't always agree with him," John explained.  
"No, it was wonderful. He mentioned it? And he said it was good? He even brought me flowers. I know that seems like such an insignificant thing, but well, that's the point. They seem so insignificant and wasteful. I convinced myself not to expect them because Sherlock would never approve of them," Molly said.  
"You're right that does sound like something he would consider. He's always so practical," John said.  
"And sometimes that's a good thing, like during cases and when you have to make decisions. But other times it hurts you know, like when he tells you the unrelenting truth or when you want to have a conversation with him about something other than cases," Molly replied.  
"I know what you mean and I hope that things work out well for the two of you. I want him to be capable of this," John said with a slight grimace. He wanted these things for Molly, but there was a part of him that knew Sherlock would never be able to have a normal relationship.  
"Yeah, me too. Anyways I'll see you around later I have to get to work," Molly said.  
"Yup, later. Have a nice shift," John told her.  
Molly spent her shift wondering if Sherlock actually meant the things he told John about their date. What would he gain out of lying though? She worked in distracted frustration the rest of the night. There were still three days until their next date and Molly was still nervous about it and she didn't know what they were doing next. It was true that Sherlock had taken her somewhere conventional on the first date, but the chance of that happening twice was pretty narrow. And Molly was definitely okay with that. She had enjoyed the date, but she had learned to expect more from Sherlock. He was the one who sauntered into the morgue at all hours of the night and day to get spare body parts, there was no way she was going to let him get away with an average date twice.  
Saturday night came around and Molly was nervously anticipating the night's upcoming events. She remembered the call from the night before, "Sherlock?"  
"Of course, who else would call from this number?" Sherlock's voice questioned over the line.  
"John calls sometimes. He likes to check up on me because he knows I live alone. You live with a very considerate man Sherlock. I actually thought it was him calling trying to talk me out of our date tomorrow. He's not sure that you're intentions are completely pure. I told him that both of us knew what we were getting into it," Molly said.  
"John calls you?" Sherlock said. There was a hint of confusion in his voice, which Molly realized that she found endearing.  
"Yeah, he calls every once in a while to check on me. He's really kind," Molly explained.  
"Oh, I never realized. I'll have to ask him about it," Sherlock said. He wasn't sure why it bothered him that John called her without telling him about it.  
"Anyway, what did you need Sherlock? Did something come up? Do we need to reschedule?" Molly asked slightly nervous. She was sad that they would have to cancel, but she understood that cases would always take precedence with Sherlock.  
"No, that's not why I called. I just wanted to reconfirm our arrangement," Sherlock explained. "I was not aware of proper dating protocol, so I asked John what the procedure was. He told me to call and remind you of our date and make sure you could make it."  
"Oh, that was considerate," Molly replied. Their conversation went on in that manner for another half an hour. Somehow the call made her more nervous than she was before he called.  
A few minutes before Sherlock was supposed to come and pick her up, Molly sat fidgeting in her knee length purple sundress.  
A knock came at the door and Molly stood so suddenly that her knees popped. She opened the door, "Come in."  
"Thanks. I would love to, but we're on a pretty tight schedule. We should probably leave now so that we don't miss the exhibit," Sherlock said.  
"Oh, what exhibit are we going to go see?" Molly asked as she pulled on a black knit sweater and grabbed her bag.  
"You'll find out," Sherlock said with a sly smirk. "But first we're going to lunch."  
Sherlock took Molly to a sweet corner café where they ate adorable sandwiches and drank scalding tea. Molly wasn't sure she liked it, but she was sure Sherlock picked the restaurant to appease her, so she endured it. Though she was sure he could tell that she wasn't overly pleased with his choice. They took their time eating and continued their conversations about her work and about the cases he solved.  
"Time to go," Sherlock said interrupting her laughter over an identity debacle that nearly caused Lestrade to let the wrong man walk. He grabbed her hand and they were walking down the sidewalk in the bright sunlight.  
"Are we taking a cab?" Molly questioned as they moved further away from the main road.  
"No, it's just a couple of blocks away and I didn't want to waste such a beautiful day," Sherlock smiled down at Molly. She was pretty sure that it was the first time she saw him smile about something that wasn't a terribly morbid case or dead person.  
They quickly reached a large official looking sandstone building, "The British Museum? What do they have that you want to see?" Molly knew that the British Museum usually specialized in art and that art generally didn't interest Sherlock.  
"You'll see," Sherlock smiled that sly grin again.  
They walked through the art museum past rooms of paintings and sculptures until they came to a temporary exhibit. Molly read the printed sign that was hanging on the wall, "Body Worlds? Isn't that that one where that man plasticized human bodies for art and science?"  
"Yes, that would be the exhibit," Sherlock said. He was grinning and looked like a kid on Christmas.  
"I can't believe it; I've wanted to visit this exhibit since I heard it was coming to town," Molly gushed excitedly.  
"Good, I thought you would appreciate it," Sherlock told her.  
"I do. I wonder what process he used to create these wonderful pieces," Molly said walking around one of the glass cases. The former man was stripped of skin down to bright red muscles and the formerly mentioned skin fell in a fall from his upheld hand.  
"Let's find out then," Sherlock said grabbing her hand and pulling her around the exhibit hall. They stayed until the museum closed and by the end they had a pretty good idea of how the artist preserved the bodies so perfectly.  
They ended up standing outside of Molly's apartment door. "I had a great time," Molly mumbled suddenly shy.  
"I had a rather enjoyable time," Sherlock said. The smile he bestowed on her held a hint of sadness.  
Molly shook her head, confused, "That sounds like you didn't enjoy it as much as I did."  
"I really did have a nice time, but Molly, we both have to know that we can't keep doing this. I don't have the capacity for this type of relationship. I think we're going to be much better friends now though, since we've shared this time together," Sherlock said.  
"Oh, of, of course, no that makes sense, I…I have to go. Thanks for the trip," Molly said as she swung open her door and slammed it behind her.  
Molly stood there, stunned. "What?" she mumbled, but Sherlock had already turned on his heel and walked swiftly down the hall. She closed the door, still staring blankly ahead. She knew the pain would come, but right then she was filled with a reckless sense of abandonment. She had spent shining hours with Sherlock. The time had felt so right, how could he deny her? What was wrong with her? Her mind skipped back to Todd, and she wondered again why he had called off their date. She didn't blame him because obviously the defect was in her. She flinched away from the cold, hard fact. It was a cruel fact and it stung, but there it was for her to accept. Sherlock was right for her, if anyone could accept her strange quirks and odd habit of talking to the dead it was him, so it stood to reason that there must be something else wrong with her. She had always assumed it was her fascination with her job that scared most men away from her, but that reason just didn't make sense with Sherlock.  
A noise broke into her thoughts. There was a muffled shuffling noise, shoes against carpet and the jingle of keys. Molly focused and realized that she was still standing in the open door to her apartment. She looked down the hall toward the noise and saw Todd balancing a bag of groceries and trying to maneuver the key into the lock. Molly felt an odd sensation come over her. She had wanted to know why he had stood her up since the night he had done so, but at first she had been to afraid to question him and then Sherlock overshadowed any thought of Todd.  
"Here, let me help you," Molly said and walked down the hall.  
Todd looked up at her intrusion and a look of guilt passed over his features before he turned away. He mumbled, "You don't need to do that Molly. I've got it."  
"Nonsense, you're about to send that back of apples all over the floor. The least you can do is let me help you," Molly smiled. She was sure he caught the hint. Yes, letting her help was the least he could do after what he had done.  
"Molly, I'm sorry. Will come in? I…need to talk to you about something," he said as she pulled open his door.  
"Um, sure. Why not? I already came all the way down here against my better judgment," Molly giggled. She was riding the high before the plummet, reckless.  
Todd looked at her strangely and motioned her in. "Have a seat. I'll make us a drink."  
"Thanks," Molly said. As she sat, she thought about where she was. In Todd's house, the man who stood her up, the one who, retrospectively, gave her the opportunity through that betrayal to go out with Sherlock. What was she doing here?  
"Molly, I have felt terrible this past week. I asked you out and I really wanted to go, but I've been having money trouble lately and well, I just couldn't afford it," Todd said.  
"You asked me out knowing you didn't have the money for a date? I could have paid. I believe in equal relationships Todd, you could have gotten it another time," Molly said confused.  
"That's not exactly what I mean Molly," Todd crept around the subject. She could feel his tension. "I could have paid for the date. I've been managing along fine, but I've not had a lot of breathing room and my car's been acting a little funny." He paused again, handed Molly a bright blue mixed drink, and took a deep sip the deep amber drink he had mixed for himself. Molly waited for him to explain because it still didn't make much sense to her. "I guess I should just say it and I want you to know that I am highly ashamed of myself and I hope you understand some day. The day I was supposed to take you out, a man came to me and told me not to go on a date with you. First he just tried talking me out of it, but I wouldn't listen. He tried threatening me, which I found really strange and I threatened to call the police. And then, he told me he loved you, but he had bad panic attacks around you and couldn't be with you, but he also couldn't stand you dating anyone else. I told him to go to a therapist to get help and that you were a grown woman and could do what you wanted."  
"Who…what? I'm very confused," Molly said.  
"I was too, I still am. You see what happened was, he offered me money, a nice chunk of change and I…I just couldn't. I couldn't turn it down Molly. I've been scraping by, but you never know when something bad will happen and then I started believing maybe he did love you and that's why he did it and I didn't really know you that well, so I came up with excuses. I know, I'm a douche bag, but if it's any consolation the guilt has been killing me. But then I saw him leaving the building today when I came in. Did he finally ask you out? That fellow with the curly brown hair?"  
Molly felt like she had been punched in the gut. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't focus and she was sure the blackness at the edge of her vision was a bad sign. "Sherlock," she mumbled dreading the worst. He had paid Todd to stand her up, to put her in that position of vulnerability and availability. Why? Why hadn't he just asked her out? There was no way she could have said not to him, so why did he have to mistreat her so?  
"Is that his name? He's a fairly fit fellow. Is he nice? He seemed a little strange to me, but I've never felt strange was anything but a compliment. Actually you're strangeness was what made me want to ask you out," Todd rambled oblivious to her panic.  
"Thanks Todd, I've got to go. The plants are probably boiling over," Molly said as she blankly stared. She ran into the couch, the end table, and the umbrella stand before she made it into the hall.  
"Molly, are you okay? Did I say something wrong? Again? And what do you mean the plants are boiling over? Molly!" Todd shouted after her, but she was already in the safety of her apartment with the door locked behind her.  
A few days earlier, when Sherlock strode out of Molly's apartment that day he felt like he always did. Confident that he had done what he had to despite the unpleasant sinking feeling he experienced when Molly's stunned expression flashed itself uninvited in his mind. He shoved it forcefully toward the "necessity, finished" file in his well organized mind. This was the seventh time he had needed to push the picture aside, a record for him, and he wondered how long the inconvenience would continue. Her sad brown eyes and trembling bottom lip were proving to be very stubborn and oddly distracting to his work. He tried to put the information he had learned from his experience with Molly to good use. He was confident in his approach toward his intended target. The approach hadn't been a problem. The target had taken to him with gusto similar to Molly's. Her image flashed momentarily, distracting him before he could push her aside, this time her face showing a pleasured shock. The image was of her the day he asked her out. He decided to file this one into "undecided." Asking her out was a necessity that was finished, like leaving her had been, but the pleasured blush in her pale cheeks stirred something in him that he was curious to examine later. Briefly he compared the image of Molly's acceptance to the acceptance of his proposal of the target. She had blushed similarly, but Sherlock found that Molly's blush was more becoming and had a different feeling about it. He made the decision to file both into a file marked "interesting." His date with the target was pleasurable, the food was good, but Sherlock could not help but remember the sweet giggling that had escaped Molly's lips while they talked. The target had purred and scooted close to Sherlock, suffocating him, though it was proof that he was "dating" correctly. He once again, this time very firmly, placed Molly out of his thoughts. He needed to concentrate on what he had learned about the target; the woman who had created the need for Sherlock to test "dating" in the first place. He had learned that the prime suspect in a very important murder case revealed nothing to anyone and he had hoped that becoming a suitor would loosen her lips. He had been correct and soon he would have all of the information he needed from her and he could leave her stunned outside of her apartment. "Molly, stop it." Sherlock muttered as she surfaced yet again in his musings. He paced swiftly around the room trying to fit the pieces together. He was close, but if he kept getting distracted, then there was no telling how long it would take him.  
"Sherlock, go to bed," John said shuffling from his room.  
"So you're talking to me again, good. I need your help. I can't quite piece together why she would kill her father. He didn't have any money, it just doesn't make sense. I feel like I'm missing something important," Sherlock said.  
"I'm only telling you to go to bed because I can hear you all the way upstairs. I don't think I'm ready to talk to you yet. You're a right git and you know it," John said.  
"John, we've been over this. Molly knew what she was getting into, or at least I thought she did. I'm a sociopath, it was bound not to work out," Sherlock said annoyed as yet another vision of Molly came unbidden. How was she managing to torment him? He was not a subscriber of magic, but he was positive he had no control over the images.  
"Don't pretend you actually dated her!" John shouted. He calmed enough to control his volume. "You were only using her to get info on how to date Mrs. Robinson. I'm not daft Sherlock and neither is Molly. She'll figure it out and then you won't have a connection to Bart's and it will serve you right. You can't just keep using people and expect them to forgive you, especially without an apology, though I don't think one will help you here. Molly coddled you, she always forgave and that's why you thought you could take advantage of her, but you went too far this time."  
"Thank you, John, for your input," Sherlock said through gritted teeth. He wasn't sure why he was so mad at John. Sherlock even knew that his flatmate was right. "Goodnight John. I will try to keep it down."  
"Molly, you have to get over him. You know Sherlock. Maybe he just wanted a chance with you and that's why he paid Todd off. He didn't know it wasn't going to work out. It was commendable that he even tried," Vanessa coaxed. She was giving the man a mile when what she really wanted to do was kick his smug face in.  
"I… I just thought that we had something, you know. I've never been able to talk to guys. I'm sure Todd wouldn't have worked out either, but Sherlock was right. And now what do I do? I get it, I really do. He was being nice in his Sherlocky way, and that's not what I'm still sad about. I'm sad because Sherlock is the one. I can tell. I will never be able to talk to anyone else the way I do with him," Molly sighed.  
"Todd said that he was attracted to you because of your quirks. And he wants to give it another go now that Sherlock isn't around threatening him. Why don't you at least give it a shot? It might take your mind off things at least," Vanessa suggested.  
"I don't know Vanessa. I don't really want to go out," Molly said exhausted.  
"It's just a company party. I'm going. It'll be fun and you two can just go as friends," Vanessa bribed. "You don't want him to look silly for being the only one without a date do you?"  
"Oh fine. I'll go, but only as friends and only because you're going," Molly sighed. It was one of the last things she wanted to do, but her friend needed her and maybe Vanessa was right; maybe she did need a good distraction.  
"Sherlock, please?" a curvy older woman pouted. Her bleached hair was styled away from her face and her clothes just barely fit. "I would hate to go alone."  
Sherlock forced a smile. He could barely stand this simpering, suffocating, oxygen stealer. He usually kept as far away from the human race as possible and carefully chose the few he did associate with unless he was forced otherwise and Elizabeth Robinson's file was marked "otherwise" in big, bold, red letters toward the front of Sherlock's impressive mind. "You know I would never let you go alone, dear."  
"You're so sweet," she purred and sensually ran her arms along his shoulders until they snaked around his neck. Sherlock could imagine her killing her father easily, but imagination did not supply the why. "I know it's a boring company thing, but I promise we'll sneak away early and then we can make our own fun." She winked and pushed up on her tiptoes to peck his lips with hers. She never even noticed the lack of pressure from his end.  
"So, this is quite a party," Molly said nodding her head in time to the music. She craned her neck around trying to Vanessa. They had become separated about an hour after the party had started and Molly felt the need to talk to her friend who had promised that she would be there to endure the torture with her.  
"It is; isn't it? I was afraid you would be bored since you didn't know anyone here," Todd said with a smile.  
"Nope, it's pretty enjoyable," Molly lied through her forced smile. She was learning that Todd was a laid back, nice fellow that she was not at all interested in. He was kind and polite, but she couldn't stand one more second of boring small talk. Molly was sure this was how Sherlock felt when he talked to anyone in the world and the thought made her lonely and achy. She wondered if he was this bored when he talked to her. From the corner of her eye she thought she saw a tousle of dark, curly hair.  
"Molly, are you okay?" Todd asked noticing her jerky movement, but by the time she had turned nothing was there, just her mind playing tricks on her.  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I thought I saw Vanessa, but it was someone else," Molly lied smoothly.  
For a moment he was sure he caught a whiff of her perfume, but when he turned to get a better look, Molly was no where to be seen. Besides, Clarissa's perfume was heavy, sweet, and sticky enough to drown the soft scent of Molly's preferred brand. It was much more likely that Sherlock had imagined it. He did not want to be at this part with Clarissa, which was strange considering it was a case. He usually enjoyed a case more than anything else, but this one felt hallow. Maybe it was the domestic vibe of being forced to date to unravel the true identity of the culprit or perhaps it had finally come to the point where cases were no longer interesting to Sherlock. That is what everyone at the precinct feared; that he would some day grow bored of solving cases and begin creating cases to be solved. However, creating an interesting puzzle was not what was plaguing to consulting detective's mind this night. He found that he would rather be somewhere with a certain pathologist. It was a strange thought.  
"YOU!" a voice screamed from a short distance from Sherlock and his date. "How dare you come here! And with her, that no good, gold-digging harpy! You chose that vulture over Molly? Is she the reason you dumped her without an explanation? Did you know that Molly thinks it's somehow her fault? That she's the defective one! Well, I know one thing, Molly was a hundred times better than that tramp you're with tonight and Todd's lucky to be the one with her and I guess you and Clarissa deserve each other." Vanessa spoke loudly and the guest around Sherlock and her turned to watch. After her speech Vanessa turned on her heel and stalked to the other side of the ballroom in search of her friend.  
"Wait, Vanessa," Sherlock said taking two steps toward the retreating figure.  
"Sherlock, don't bother. Defending me is not worth getting into a fight," Clarissa said clutching his arm.  
"Defend you?" Sherlock could no longer keep up the pretense. "I wanted to go apologize. Even though she doesn't understand how, Vanessa is right. I should never have used a friend the way I did and no case is worth losing Molly. I don't know if I love her, but she deserves better than what I've put her through. I'll find another way to prove that you killed your father Clarissa," Sherlock said as he left the party.  
"Did you see him? You look like you've seen him," Vanessa said as she approached Molly.  
"Who are you talking about? Todd is just getting something or talking to someone. I don't remember what he said when he wandered away, but he's here," Molly said distractedly.  
"Sherlock. You know he's here, I can see it in your face. You weren't even listening to Todd when he told you he was going to the bathroom. And I've been standing here for at least three minutes," Vanessa looked at her friend expectantly.  
"Oh, well. I guess I didn't notice," Molly said. "Wait, why is Sherlock here?"  
"That got your attention didn't it. He's here with Clarissa Ringwald, that billion heiress whose father just passed. Bless her heart. She's trying so hard to be strong, staying out in the public like this," Vanessa said.  
"Sherlock is here and he brought a date?" Molly said.  
"Yes, he brought a date," Vanessa said slowly. "He broke up with you to date a suddenly very wealthy heiress. I guess before he died, Clarissa's father wouldn't feed her an allowance. He expected her to work for her money. At least that's what all the tabloids were saying. Before his death of course. Because after he died there was not one person who cried harder at his funeral, not even his consort. I mean really, her makeup was running and everything. There is no way I would be caught crying that hard if I was being filmed live."  
"Vanessa, just shut up for one moment," Molly yelled as Todd came up behind her.  
"Whoa Molly, you feeling okay? I've never heard you shout before," Todd said.  
"Yes, I'm fine. Give me just a minute please," Molly said. "It's just so obvious isn't it? She killed her dad. For the money. I don't care how hard she cried. That's an illogical reason to not suspect someone of murder anyway."  
"You must not have seen her. She was a mess Molly. Snot and mascara and the whole works. There was no way she could bring herself to cry like that for the camera unless she was really distraught," Vanessa said.  
"Besides," Todd said giving Vanessa a funny look, "she wasn't even in the city when it happened. She was hours away. And don't say she hired an assassin because he died of a heart attack. Assassins can't cause heart attacks."  
"No, they can't. But something can. A delayed poison. Oh, something, think Molly. Second year of Doctorate school. That poor young man. Was his name Andrew?" Molly began thinking aloud to herself.  
"His name's not important Molly," Sherlock's hands were suddenly on her shoulders. "What was the poison?"  
"Sherlock!" Molly's hand flew to her mouth. "I didn't expect you."  
"Enough of the trivial Molly. You're better than the trivial. That's why I like you," He said.  
"You like me? I mean of course you do I'm helpful. Why wouldn't you like someone who's helpful. You most certainly like John and he's helpful," Molly babbled.  
"Maybe you should have kept that last thing to yourself if you wanted a straight answer about your poison mate. Now all she can think about is what you meant," Todd said.  
"Yes, I realize," Sherlock said with an irked glance at Todd. Sherlock both resented him for stating the obvious and taking Molly out. "Molly, I meant attraction. That's why I'm attracted to you romantically. Because you're smart. And even if you don't remember the poisons name, I'll still be attracted you. Because you're beautiful and fun. Now think."  
"Coniine. The poison was Coniine. And don't ask for post-mortem signs because, well the only one is signs of asphyxia. You might trace selling and buying records, but it's most likely black market. It's made from hemlock. It's the only thing I can think of and one more thing, please don't tell me that you told me you were attracted to me to get the answer. Not until tomorrow. Please," She said looking into his eyes.  
"I told you smart," Sherlock said.  
"Why?" Molly asked as she began to cry. She had wanted him to wait. To give her one night of dreams and happiness.  
She tried to turn away and leave the party, but Sherlock grabbed her and held her in place. "You're right. That is something I would say in order to get the answer out of someone. However, this time I said it because it was the truth. And I know you won't believe it because I've lied to you. A lot. And of course you think that I'm only trying to restore your peace of mind for one more night like you asked, so it will, of course, take some time for you to trust me again. But Molly, I hope that in time."  
"Sherlock," Molly interrupted.  
"Yes?" He asked, but the rest of his question was swallowed up as she placed her hand on the back of his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.


End file.
